There is so much I’d like to know about myself when I was a baby. I have heard bits and pieces but for some reason bad memories seem to run in my family. Me and my Grandmama have the best memories but I wish the people I grew up in the house with did.
My mother said I was boring. That I didn’t cry or anything. I just sat there looking at people. My pa said that he liked me and held me all the time. Since there are only three baby pictures of me in existence I’ll have to take his word for it. Oh, and I call him “pa” because when I was little me and my brother called him by his first name. Then one day he told us to call him “daddy.” Once I got a bit older, like 10, I just never referred to him as anything. Its weird but to this day I will call him “pa” or nothing. On a birthday card years ago it said “From Ma & Pa!” and from the living room I shouted “Pa!” and he was like, “Aw, damn it…” He now had a name. Pa.
As I was saying, no one ever describes me as hyper, bad, or whiny. Its funny but my mothers description is pretty much how I would behave at parties as an adult. I’ll find a nice spot and just watch people like some sort of National Geographic where the animals can talk. I have a few memories from being an infant. Yes, I know how crazy that sounds. I remember being in a playpen and licking it to see the bubbles pop against the screen. I remember my mother taking me into the shower before I was 1 and freaking out at the water beating my ass. I remember my stroller and loving the ugly orange, brown, and red thing. I remember crying when my brother took it apart to use the wheels for a doomed go-cart.
That picture of me up there is one of three that exist. The other two were found looking for pictures of my late brother for his funeral. They were taken on the same day and I was standing and smiling. Like I am in this picture. That’s my Grandpapa in the back sitting on the bed. I had this picture for years until I noticed him back there. I look at baby me and wonder if I knew how my life would’ve turned out if I would have acted differently. Would I have given up or grown up tougher? Ah, who knows? But I like looking into my past face and seeing that even as a baby I could sit there with perfect eyebrows and laughing at something.
Rockets.
Cute little fella. I love happy, chubby babies. What the hell is wrong with being a placid baby anyway? Some mothers would kill for a quiet, contented kid.
ReplyDeleteI've been reading your recent introspective blogs with particular interest. You're lucky that your ties to loved ones are what keep your head above water. That's the first thing I have difficulty coping with when I feel low; people, even friends and family. Delighted you have found what seems seems to be a good counselor, although I doubt that'll make the process any more fun or easy. Less so, possibly, if the job is done right. You've mentioned that you're jobhunting at the moment, funny how life and our mental health can kick us when we least need it. Good luck with it all. All things must pass, the bad and the good. I do my best to deal with the bad and hang on to the good.